


Dairy King

by Artemis_Dreamer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FA!Loki, Frivolous Use of Magic, FrostIron - Freeform, Humor, Ice-Cream Dimension, Loki Has a Kink, M/M, Nonsense, Stuffed!Tony, Stuffing Fetish, implied weight gain, total crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony will not stop complaining about the summer heat, and Loki decides to finally shut him up, forgetting all about his lover's absolute lack of self control. </p><p>Love and binging, in a dimension comprised of infinite ice-cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dairy King

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, which contains references to a food binge, descriptions of belly stuffing, and implied future weight gain of a main character.
> 
> Please do not begin reading if any of these concepts upset you or seem repulsive.
> 
> Essentially, don't like, don't read.
> 
> Thanks!

Tony’s spoon scraped the bottom of the plastic tub that had at some point been full of pistachio ice-cream. Dammit. Another pass of the spoon over the white plastic, yielding nothing. 

“Dammit,” the billionaire grumbled, out loud now. He could have sworn that five minutes ago, he had been holding a half-full tub of the best dessert ever invented. Now it was empty, just like magic. Magic… hey, wait just half a second.

“Loki,” Tony groaned, “put my ice-cream back.” He didn’t even bother to sit up as he said it, sprawled across the marble floor of his penthouse with his head and shoulders resting against the leg of the sectional leather sofa. It was a scorching 38 degrees Celsius today, the goddamn air-conditioning in his tower was down for the count, and now his lover was screwing around with the one thing that had been keeping him relatively sane.

An amused chuckle came from the sofa above him, where an equally exhausted-looking and uncomfortable god of mischief was sipping from a glass of ice water. “If it were possible, I would consider it,” Loki replied. 

“If it were possible?” Tony echoed sarcastically. “Cut the crap, Rudolf. I’m sweating to death over here, and you won’t give me back the only thing standing between me and an untimely end?” Waxing into hyperbole now, the playboy smirked. “And here I was, thinking that you loved me.”

“Stark,” the trickster replied, a world that would have been threatening if it hadn’t been said in a half-whine, “it is hardly my fault that you cannot recall your own reckless consumption. There is no ice-cream, because you have eaten it.”

He was speaking slowly, as if explaining the situation to a toddler. He might as well have been – the genius’s brain had been rendered practically useless by the oppressive heat. 

“Wait, you mean that I just ate all of that?” Tony was mildly dumbfounded, attempting to recall actually eating the more than a gallon’s worth of ridiculously sweet frozen dessert, which he had been brooding over all morning. 

An exasperated sigh from the trickster. “Yes Anthony. Why, has your pathetically weak mortal stomach begun to ache?”

It hadn’t. That would have been a surprise to most people, but Tony Stark wasn’t most people. He had been an ice-cream aficionado (read: addict) ever since childhood, though this was more than he could recall having in one sitting – at least recently, not counting the strange time that had been his early twenties. 

“No,” the billionaire huffed, “but it means that we’re out of ice-cream.”

“Oh, for the love of Odin,” Loki sighed, resisting the temptation to tip the rest of his water glass over either his own forehead or Tony’s pants. To say that he had been dreading this moment was an understatement. A three day heat wave, and his lover had been bitching and moaning through every minute of it. Now, the gluttonous mortal had gone and finished off the latest helping of the only thing that had rendered his behavior even marginally tolerable.

Accursed air-conditioning. Accursed ice-cream. 

Loki was decidedly against listening to Anthony’s pestering and complaining for another long hour, or however long as it took for said mortal to guilt him into fetching some more of the dessert from the corner store. Yes, the god of mischief, whipped by the one and only Iron Man. 

“Lo-kiii...” 

Oh dear gods. It had already begun. 

Reaching into the reserve of his magic was a sluggish process, hampered by the exhaustion that the heat had brought upon him. God of Fire though he may have also been, he was first and foremost a Jotunn, a creature diametrically opposed to heat in any form. This use of magic would be frivolous, unnecessary, and likely leave him fatigued for weeks, but if it would prevent him having to venture out into the sweltering sunlight for the second time today, it would be well worth it.

“What would you say, Anthony, to an unlimited supply of your Midgardian dessert for as long as this inhospitable weather continues?”

Even sweat-soaked and limper than a wet dishcloth, the billionaire still found the energy within him to muster some interest (and a fair measure of enthusiasm).

“I would say “hell yes”,” Tony replied, excited at the prospect despite the fact that this was almost certainly just Loki screwing with him again. Sort of like the incident yesterday, where said trickster had convinced him that yes, an ice cube bath would be just the perfect solution, before transmuting the ice cubes into scalding hot water after a mere five minutes of bliss. 

“Well then,” Loki smirked, crossing his proverbial fingers that this qualified under the contract as a constructive use of his power, “your wish is granted.”

The world seemed to ripple around the pair, and both men could feel a wave of raw magic wash over their bodies. Tensing, Tony opened his mouth to ask exactly what the hell the trickster was doing, but he never got the chance.

His eyes were forced shut by an overwhelming pressure, a weight that seemed to be squeezing against his body from all sides. He could hear his lover mumbling in Norse as the pressure built, until he swore that his bones were about to shatter. A rapid contraction and easing of the weight, a burst of green light, and whatever the flipping heck that had been seemed to be over. 

A cool, sugar-scented breeze rushed over his overheated skin as he opened his eyes.

“Holy shit.”

He was quite literally surrounded by ice-cream. Ice-cream that seemed to form an entire vast and life-sized landscape, painted a rainbow of colors by dozens upon dozens of flavors.

“Ho-lee shit, Reindeer Games. This had better be real.”

A self-satisfied hum drew his attention away from what appeared to be a sea of vanilla soft-serve lapping up over a banana-flavored, strawberry-sprinkle-adorned beach, and over to the smugly smiling face of his own personal god. 

“You will find that this is every inch real, Stark.” Loki pronounced. “Or do you doubt my magic?”

Said trickster gazed out at his creation as he awaited a reply, hopefully something containing an apology that was at least half-hearted, but the reply never came. Instead, he received a response in the form of a thoroughly satisfied moan.

Tony had his spoon in his mouth, and there was a spoon-shaped indent in a mocha ice-cream tree trunk. 

“This,” the billionaire grinned, removing the spoon, “is the single best thing ever. If I wasn’t about to kiss you into unconsciousness, I would totally be working on a marketing campaign.” 

“Oh, there will be time for both of those things,” Loki replied, hiding a faint blush at the generous compliment that he had received – the playboy was very, very picky about matters of frozen dessert, except during heat waves, during which even the cheap stuff from the corner store was fine so long as it was in front of him at that exact moment. “For now, what say that you… indulge.”

He purred that last word in a way that made Tony shiver from head to toe, a shiver that had nothing to do with the fact that he was finally someplace that wasn’t stiflingly hot.  
That voice did things to him – dirty things. For once in his life, though, sex had been supplanted on the billionaire’s list of priorities, by nothing less than ice-cream. 

If the playboy had been thinking at all clearly, mind free from a combination of food-lust and slowly waning heat exhaustion, he would probably have questioned why Loki, his lustful god of mischief, had just turned down a make-out session that would probably have led to sex. Right now though, there was ice-cream that may have been either lime or pistachio melting between his toes, and there was a tree-shaped portion of what he swore was the world’s best frozen dessert within easy reach of his spoon. Logical thought was so far gone that it hadn’t even left a forwarding address. 

\---

“Ngh…”

Tony groaned in pain, sprawled across a bamboo-framed linen lawn-chair that Loki had summoned up nearly an hour ago. His stomach was bulging out over the unfastened waistband of his jeans, and his ice-cream stained t-shirt lay discarded. 

There was absolutely no logical reason why he had eaten what probably amounted to at least four sundaes worth of mocha and raspberry ice-cream. There was no reason at all, except for the fact that it was possibly the best thing that he had ever tasted, there was basically an unlimited supply, he had always been a bit of a greedy bastard, and Loki had been purring soft words of encouragement in his ear the entire time.

“Stopping already, Anthony darling?” The mischief-maker murmured breathlessly, from his seat at the billionaire’s side. Said mischief-maker was so incredibly and desperately turned on right now, and it pained him to see his lover pause in his rampant gorging.

“Loki, I’m fairly sure I’m going to go into sugar shock if I take another bite,” came the strained response. 

“Oh, I doubt that,” Loki replied, moving to run his pale fingers over the taut canvas of the other man’s stomach. He had wanted to see this for months, see his lover truly eat.  
“Gah, it’s like you want me to suffer.” Tony’s groan was louder this time, as he lapped up the remaining drops of melted ice-cream that clung to his spoon. 

The facts were so close to coalescing in his mind, he was so close to puzzling out why exactly his personal sex god seemed to want him to stuff himself, but he was just so incredibly full and exhausted. He doubted he could even remember how to deconstruct the arc reactor, and he swore he could usually do that in his sleep.

A sudden wave of nausea made him lurch upright and clutch at his aching stomach as a spasm of pain shot through it. 

“Ngh…” 

Loki smirked, even as he moved to aid his pained lover. Mortals were so incredibly fragile; another expenditure of magic would be necessary. Then again, adding to his inevitable fatigue would be well worth it if only to continue this delightful spectacle.

His fingers trailed across that bloated midsection again, this time trailing a frigid spark of emerald magic. The billionaire arched into this nurturing touch, groaning with relief. 

“You see, Anthony? I am not without mercy.” The trickster was smiling, mild amusement mingling with the desire on his face. Snagging a crystal bowl from the picnic basket he had long since conjured, he delicately plucked a chocolate ice-cream stone from the ground and enshrined it within. “Now,” he purred, placing the bowl in Tony’s lap, “eat for me?”

“You,” Tony mumbled groggily, “are up to something.” Nevertheless, he plunged the overworked spoon into the large sphere of rich chocolate dessert, raising a portion to his lips.

It was a half-dozen slow and ponderous bites that followed before the billionaire asked the question that Loki had been dreading as he had watched each bite pass between his mortal’s sugar-slicked lips.

“I haven’t seen you eat anything since we got here. Aren’t you going to at least taste your creation?”

“I’m afraid that I have an upset stomach,” the mischief-maker lied smoothly, using a cliché but plausible falsehood that had served many millions of Midgardians well over the centuries. 

“Your loss, gorgeous.”

He was not about to allow his lover witness him so much as taste a dessert of any kind, see the depths of base, gluttonous desire to which he descended when faced with the perfection that was a mortal-made sweet. There had been so few truly sweet foods on Asgard, and he found that he lost all control when tempted by such delicacies. No, his lover would view his consumption as repulsive, the inverse of how Loki viewed every second of said lover’s consumption.

As Tony finished the bowl of ice-cream with which the trickster had plied him, he gave a pronounced hiccup, which caused his swollen orb of a stomach to rise and fall sharply.  
A faint laugh escaping him at the sight and sound, Loki leant across to lick a smear of the chocolate from the other man’s cheek, and then pressed a soft kiss against his lips, relishing the taste of the sugar.

An entire alternate reality, a small pocket of existence comprised entirely of the frozen dessert that Anthony so craved. It would satisfy his lover, and provide the titillating display that he had desired to see for so very long.

Another hiccup from the inventor, who was cradling his stomach with sticky fingers.

“Reindeer Games,” he yawned, “you’ve outdone yourself. If I didn’t feel like a beached whale, I’d totally be fucking you senseless.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Loki smirked, marveling at the crude but evocative language that mortals so freely used. “It is high time that I return us to Midgard,” the god continued. “You would do well to rest, and I have some business to attend to.”

Tony gave another hiccup as he replied. “You’re so hot when you care.”

A fond sigh was his response, as the trickster contemplated what the massive amount of sugar in the billionaire’s compact body must be doing to his usually-sharp mind. It seemed to induce a state vaguely akin to drunkenness – a pleasurable haze of some sort.

Fingers massaged softly at the bloated stomach as this alternate world rippled around them, transporting them (far more gently this time) back to the penthouse of the inventor’s colossal tower.

Helping the satiated billionaire lumber across the suite of rooms to his understatedly opulent bedroom, Loki was in a state of bliss the likes of which he had not felt in decades.

“I will join you shortly,” the god grinned as Tony laid himself out atop his silk sheets. 

A childish pout was his response, Anthony already beginning to feel the encroaching summer heat once more. In response, Loki licked a smooth trail up the curve of the billionaire’s stomach, nipping lightly at the flesh beneath the arc reactor. The trail of saliva was cold against his warming skin, as if warding off the heat.

Leaving his lover in this mild state of arousal, the trickster left the room, needing to relieve a considerable tension that said lover was in no fit state to attend to. When he returned, it was to see the billionaire smirking at the sight of his flushed and panting features.

“So-”

“Not a word, Anthony,” Loki glared half-heartedly, laying himself down beside his lover. His hand was on that stomach in an instant, kneading, teasing and probing a firmness that he had always longed to feel on his lover’s body. A pronounced and painful orb, signifying an indulgence that had made the trickster weak at the knees to observe.

The billionaire was groaning softly at each movement, he was so achingly full, and yet he honestly did not regret it for an instant. This absolutely torturous pain was well-deserved, and that veritable feast had been totally worth it.

“You have enjoyed yourself, more than you imagined that you could have.”

Tony pondered that. He was wealthy; gluttony, like greed, was not a foreign concept to him. The only true difference between this and hundreds of past indulgences was that this had been an overabundance of sweets rather than liquor.

“You know, you may be on to something there.” Trying his best to sound like he still retained at least some of his mental faculties, the inventor continued, “but I’ll need to run some further tests.” 

A lazy afternoon nap was soon to follow, trickster entwined with billionaire as they dozed, but only after a promise had been made – a promise that this was not the last that Tony would be permitted to see of the delectable ice-cream realm.

They both knew in some capacity that they would awaken overheated and irate once again; Loki, however, did not know exactly how much his now-clearheaded lover would deduce, or the fact that the proverbial “jig” would now be “up”.

(Popcorn and riot shields, anyone?)

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my ever-so-demanding Ella. You wouldn't stop complaining about the 38-degree-celcius weather, so hopefully this will cool you off.
> 
> I'm really starting to get into this kink - it's almost a little scary.
> 
> Sorry that there was more of an emphasis on humor than on the good-old-fashioned kink - I think I need to stop chugging the melted Freezies if I want to write on the more serious side of things. 
> 
> All feedback and comments are most welcome.


End file.
